Fated
by Cannae be Kenobi
Summary: 31st October 1981: Voldemort goes on a a one-man killing spree. Two months later, Sybill Trelawney makes a new prophecy. Or is it? And how will it affect the wizarding world? Completely AU.


DISCLAIMER - Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc. All recognisable characters, settings, etc. belong to J K Rowling, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made by me from their use.

Credit - HP wikia, HP encyclopaedia and (unfortunately) HP lexicon.

**Chapter 1**

_31st October 1981_

Professor Albus Dumbledore was stricken into silence, his late night meeting with the Deputy Headmistress all but forgotten when their former student appeared and delivered the terrible news. Having risen to his feet when Timothy tumbled out of the Floo, he now leaned against the desk, anger warring with grief as he sought to process the latest blow to their war efforts. Professor McGonagall, too, was reeling; so much so that she sagged in her chair.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," said the pale-faced Auror, his voice little more than a whisper. He was still shocked himself. "I dunno how it happened. The house was unplottable. No one should've been able to find them. _No one_. Except … well, You Know Who _did_. Turned up alone, smashed through the door, and murdered the lot of them. Even killed a Muggle couple as he left; if they hadn't had the sense to hide their little girl beforehand, we'd never have known he was even there."

"Have you checked ..?"

"They were there too. Mr Longbottom's birthday, apparently. Now he's dead. They're all dead: Frank, Alice, his dad - even Algie and Enid. And the little 'un ..."

The Auror barely choked back the swell of emotion. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled, dashing surreptitiously at his eyes with a sleeve. "It's just … well, if I were a better wizard, I'd find You Know Who and tear him limb from limb for the sake of that little boy."

"And Augusta Longbottom?"

"In isolation in St Mungos while she recovers from Dragon Pox. Should be out in less than a week. But she doesn't know her entire family's been wiped out yet. Poor woman. Frank and Alice, of all people. Such a lovely couple!"

He produced an enormous white hankie and buried his face in it for a moment while he silently wept for his colleagues. When he withdrew it, his eyes were overly bright and his nose swollen. McGonagall, too, sobbed unashamedly into a tartan hankie. Dumbledore, however, though not unaffected by the terrible news, knew what had to be done.

"Thank you for informing so quickly, Timothy," began Dumbledore briskly, his mind whirring into overdrive. "I know it must have been a difficult task for you so soon after the event. Get back to Yorkshire as soon as you can. The Ministry will need as many Aurors there as possible before the night's out."

He bustled the unprotesting man in the direction of the fireplace, where the roar of green flames soon spirited him magically away.

"Minerva, go to your office. Call the remaining Order immediately," Dumbledore ordered determinedly, tucking his grief away as he strode purposefully toward his desk. "Have them assemble here in an hour. No earlier, no later. Exactly one hour."

"But Albus, what do you intend to do?" she asked, her Scottish brogue more pronounced with the recent emotion.

What did he intend to do? He intended to have the Potters Floo to his office immediately. He intended to make them change their Secret Keeper. He intended to _be_ their Secret Keeper. The betrayal of the Longbottoms and Neville's resultant death had made Harry Voldemort's one remaining target, and it would only be a matter of time before he was found, too. Dumbledore could not allow that to happen. With the unknown traitor in their ranks slowly tightening the noose, there was no one else he trusted to keep the boy's whereabouts an absolute secret. James would strongly protest his lack of faith in Sirius; he might even refuse to listen to the only sensible option. But Dumbledore must make him see – must make him _understand_ – that they were beyond loyalty of friendship now, and if Dumbledore had to force him to choose between his dearest friend and his only child, then he would make no bones about it. He would hate himself for it, but he would do it. Harry must be protected at all costs.

All these thoughts he kept to himself, not willing to share them even with a friend as true and loyal as Minerva McGonagall.

"I will inform James and Lily of what has happened and ask them to be on their guard."

"But how? You don't know where they are."

"My Patronus will find them," he replied abruptly, not bothering to mention that that same Patronus would also instruct them to Floo to Hogwarts immediately. With a little luck, he would be their Secret Keeper and have them back in their hideaway before the hour was up. And then …

Then he would root out the traitor in the Order of the Phoenix. It would not be difficult now, with so few members left.

McGonagall, taking his tone as a dismissal, nodded once before exiting the room and hurrying away back to Gryffindor Tower.

Alone at last, Dumbledore conjured his phoenix Patronus, recited a brief but urgent message and sent it on its way. Whilst waiting on the Potters' arrival, he sank into his armchair and allowed himself a moment to dwell on that night's tragedy. Frank and Alice, dead. Two of his most popular students, two of the finest Aurors, two of the most loyal friends. And they had been betrayed by someone in their inner circle.

But _which_ inner circle? Who had been their Secret Keeper? Family, friend or colleague? They hadn't discussed it with him after he asked them to go into hiding, believing it best that no one should know but those soon to be directly involved in the Fidelius Charm. As frustrating as it was, he saw the sense in that at the time, even understood and respected their right to privacy. Now he wished he hadn't. He ought to have insisted they disclose their possible choices. At least then he would know who had so callously condemned the young couple to death - condemned their innocent _baby_ to death.

A bitter smile twisted his lips. At least he could rule out their family as traitors. They were all dead, except one. Augusta Longbottom might have survived, but only by chance, and – having known the lady for over forty years – Dumbledore knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was no possible way she would ever betray her own son and grandchild.

Which only left friends and colleagues.

That narrowed the field considerably. Frank and Alice's pool of friends were mainly to be found _amidst_ their colleagues. And the Order. The field narrowed even further when those that knew they were in hiding were limited to the Order itself, and only a select few at that. Friends that knew the Potters were in hiding also.

Anger warred with sorrow as he mentally ticked off the names of those former students who had risen to the top of the suspect list. He was just mulling over the likelihood of Remus Lupin being the traitor when the fireplace blazed into life. Relieved they had responded so quickly, he turned to greet the Potters, but found himself facing Emmeline Vance instead. Her face was ashen, her shoulders trembling.

"Dumbledore," she stammered, spilling out of the Floo in a flurry of skirts. "Have you heard? They're dead. Dead!"

She came to a trembling halt before him, her face wet with tears.

Dumbledore sighed inwardly. He knew Emmeline was a close friend of Alice's – especially since both women joined the Order – but this was the time for action, not comfort. Alice's memory would be best served now by helping to protect the remaining target: Harry. Still, at least Emmeline's presence would spare Minerva the trouble of contacting her, though it still wouldn't do to have the younger woman present to witness the Potters' arrival.

"Timothy Baxter from the Auror Office already notified me of the news a few moments ago. It's a terrible tragedy, but I need you to be strong, Emmeline. Voldemort will answer for what he has done. For the present, I'm expecting some of the Longbottoms' friends here in a few moments to break the news to them; it might be best if you head over to Minerva's office for the time being ..."

The look of sheer horror that crossed her face made him frown.

"What do you mean, the Longbottoms?" she demanded in a shrill voice. "What's happened to them? Are you saying Alice is dead? Did he get them first?"

First? Merlin, no.

A chill ran down Dumbledore's back at the implication. Emmeline crumpled to floor, wailing keenly, repeatedly stammering Alice's name amidst fresh paroxysms of grief. Swooping down, he gripped her by the shoulders.

"What are you saying, Emmeline?" he demanded urgently, his blue eyes boring into her reddened ones as he waited for an answer he did not want to hear.

"J…J…James and L..Lily. You Know Who found them. They're … they're dead. He k...killed them."

Dumbledore staggered to his feet; his bright blue eyes wide with shock.

"Harry?" he breathed, silently praying the final blow would never come.

"I'm s...sorry, Professor. He got him too. Harry's dead. They're all d...dead."

Emmeline succumbed to her grief, sobs racking her body as she sat rocking back and forth on his office floor. Dumbledore heard none of it. Nor did he register the bang of his door as it flew open and Minerva rushed in with Sturgis Podmore in tow, both of whom were wearing stricken expressions.

"Albus. James and Lily! Harry! They're ..."

He didn't acknowledge them. Instead he walked the few steps to his chair and sank into it, then dropped his head into his waiting hands.

Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Dead. Voldemort had killed them both. Merlin help them, but Voldemort had killed them _both_.

And now he would be unstoppable.

**oooooooo**

_Two months later_

The funerals of the Potters and the Longbottoms were held two days apart; the former necessitating Dumbledore's return to Godric's Hollow, the latter a journey to Todmorden in West Yorkshire. The Longbottoms' funeral had been particularly difficult despite the glorious countryside surroundings, for it was the only one with a family member present. Augusta Longbottom, still a little green around the gills from her recent illness, had stood apart from the company of mourners, refusing comfort from even Dumbledore. Her face remained blank, her gaze fixed first on her son's coffin as it was ceremoniously lowered into the ground by a quartet of Aurors before transferring to Alice's, within whose wooden confines was the body of not only her daughter-in-law, but also her grandson. She Disapparated abruptly when the service was over, refusing to stay for either condolences or the wake that traditionally followed the service.

The deaths of the Potters and the Longbottoms had wrought a change on the wizarding world; a tide of fear like nothing before had swept it and – sensing the inevitable victory of Voldemort – many families were heading for the Continent. Diagon Alley had already been attacked twice in the week after the funerals and many businesses were now boarded up. It looked like a ghost town. Parents pulled children from school, fearful that it too would become a target.

The Ministry struggled to cope with the surge in Death Eater attacks, mainly because there simply weren't enough Aurors available, especially after the Minister for Magic barely escaped an attempted assassination in her own home. Were it not for the timeous arrival of Alastor Moody and his excellent team, Voldemort would have struck a serious blow to the morale of the entire wizarding world by executing Millicent Bagnold. Fortunately, he didn't succeed, but the attempt did mean that she had to have a protective detail escorting her wherever she went, which in turn meant less Aurors on the streets.

On the upside, the traitor in the Order had been discovered, though it was a bitter blow. Sirius Black was arrested in Godric's Hollow after a confrontation with Peter Pettigrew left twelve Muggles and Pettigrew himself dead. Of all the people Dumbledore might have expected to betray the Potters, Sirius Black was the least expected. True, Dumbledore had been ready to take the responsibility of being James and Lily's Secret-Keeper away from Black, but more as a precaution than any true sense of mistrust in the man. Now the headmaster was filled with regret that he had not acted more definitively - and much sooner.

Though the ranks of the Order had suffered a grievous loss, thanks to that single night of carnage, their numbers had swollen considerably since. Dumbledore had been inundated with requests from surviving members to induct friends and colleagues into the secret society; people who were neither willing nor ready to give up the fight against Voldemort.

"I won't have my children growing up with the threat of You Know Who hanging over them," stated Arthur Weasley not two nights ago. Dumbledore had vetted him for entry at the personal request of Elphias Doge and – recalling the younger man's affable but dedicated persona from his school years – accepted the petition.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror of twenty years experience and member of the team who had saved the Minister's life, was becoming increasingly frustrated by the Ministry's ineffective attempts to deal with the threat of Voldemort. After confiding his feelings to Alastor Moody, the senior Auror promptly risked Dumbledore's wrath by bringing him – uninvited – to the next meeting. Fortunately, Alastor had known exactly what he was doing, and whom he was dealing with, for Shacklebolt became an Order member that very day.

"He's not invincible, Dumbledore," announced the stately man in his warm baritone, which was tempered with the grim set of his face. "Strong, yes, but not invincible. There _has_ to be a way to stop him."

If only Shacklebolt had been able to make a suitable suggestion as to how they might accomplish that feat. Still, it was an encouraging remark, and Shacklebolt was both intelligent and committed to their cause. With his position and contacts both in and out of the DMLE, he was a valuable addition to the Order.

Neelam Kamran, an old friend from Pakistan who moved to Dorset three years earlier, was Dumbledore's own choice. She and her grown family had already fought in the Islamabad Insurgency, successfully apprehending the feared dark wizard Junaid Khan after he murdered her husband - Khan was executed by the Pakistani Ministry within hours of his capture.

There had been several more new recruits, some Dumbledore had actively sought out himself, others recommended to him. Soon the Order was as large as it had ever been, and all were busy gathering intelligence from a myriad of sources, keen to ascertain any details regarding Voldemort's next strike, and wondering if it would be the determining battle of the war.

But then a very strange thing happened.

One morning in early January, Dumbledore had just dismissed the regular monthly meeting of the faculty from the Staff Room. Sybill Trelawney lingered behind as per usual, this time in an attempt to convince him that her Inner Eye had warned her of Severus Snape's impending doom at the business end of a Cleansweep.

"It explains why he has been so melancholy of late, Headmaster. He knows it! He has seen the Grim!"

What she did not know was that Severus had been battling to control his grief since the death of Lily Potter. Not known for being warm and cuddly at the best of times, he was now positively icy; even the most innocent remark was now enough to earn the unfortunate individual a withering glare or cutting response from him. No student had escaped his tender mercies in class either – not even the occasional Slytherin. Detentions were at an all time high and House points at an all time low. Had Dumbledore not needed him so urgently as a spy in Voldemort's camp, he would have insisted the younger man take a very long holiday. But the one time he had tentatively approached the subject, Snape flew into a rage, refusing to be sent away until he had seen the Dark Lord's 'rotting corpse' with his own two eyes. Lily's death had instilled such a deep hatred of his master that Dumbledore feared his Potions professor would not be able to suppress it whenever he was called to the Dark Lord's side.

In the end, Dumbledore had had no choice but to have a short, sharp conversation with the man, warning him to keep his emotions in check.

"You needn't worry, Albus. My Occlumency far surpasses that of the Dark Lord, as you are already aware," answered Severus acerbically.

"Voldemort will not need Occlumency to read you if word of your behaviour at school reaches his ears via the Slytherins' parents. It won't take him long to suspect your loyalties if he believes you were actually in love with Lily, and not merely attracted to her."

Those words struck home, eliciting a grudging promise to tone done his outbursts, and Snape's usual 'charm' became evident shortly thereafter.

"... and so I have suspected for quite some time now that he senses his forthcoming demise. It's the Grim, Headmaster. It never lies!" insisted Sybill, peering up at him through her enormous glasses as she waggled a finger in the air.

Ah. Sybill. So lost had he been in his ruminations that Dumbledore had almost forgotten about her. He listened patiently while she prattled on, 'oh'-ing, 'ah'-ing and nodding politely in all the right places. In her own way, Sybill was merely voicing her concern for a colleague and – having incurred the Potion Master's wrath the week before in an attempt to foist a tarot card reading on him – Dumbledore thought it safer she come to him to discuss her fears than approach Severus again. Still, he couldn't stand here all day listening to her.

"I quite understand, Sybill. A Grim is nothing to trifle with. Perhaps it might be wise if I contact your friends in the mists of the Otherworld and seek their advice on the matter?"

"Oh, but that won't be possible, Headmaster. Manifold though your talents are, we both know you're simply not blessed with the necessary Gift," she replied in her misty voice as she spared him a pitying glance. Brightening, she pulled a crystal ball from her carpet bag and added; "But _I_ could. It would take very little effort on my part to seek the answers required with the aid of my Inner Eye."

Relieved she had taken the bait so quickly, Dumbledore smiled gratefully, suggesting she undertake the task as quickly as possible before bidding her goodbye.

Barely had he taken three steps toward the door when there was a dull thump behind him. Spinning around, he found Professor Trelawney standing stiff and still by the table; the crystal ball placed back in the bag, which had now slipped from her slackened fingers. Her large eyes were unfocussed and staring blankly over his left shoulder.

Using magic to seal the door, Dumbledore strode towards her even as she opened her mouth and the harsh voice - which signalled her true Seeing talent – began to rasp:

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice __defied him, born as the seventh month died... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord was born as the seventh month died..."_

Sybill's eyes cleared and she blinked, shaking her bushy head. "Where was I?"

Spotting Dumbledore ahead, she emitted a bemused giggle before clearing her throat and resuming her usual theatrical tone. "Ah yes. The Otherworld. Well, I shall depart the physical one … how did that get there?" Frowning, she scooped up her crystal ball-laden bag and continued. "I shall depart the physical one for a short while to seek answers from beyond the mists. Expect my report by breakfast tomorrow, Headmaster!"

She breezed past him in a swish of shawls and a jangle of bangles, pausing only briefly to wonder at the magically sealed door before opening it with a prod of her wand and disappearing into the Entrance Hall, leaving behind her a very stunned headmaster.

**o*o*o*o**


End file.
